


Lonely Boys are Bitter Lovers

by Twilight_Shadow_Songs



Series: Sweet Sweet Oblivion [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DCU, Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Barry Quinzel is a lawyer and singer, Dark, Harley's brother gets her origin story somewhat, M/M, My AU my rules, My Own AU, My own timeline, thought piece, various other characters that don't play major roles, what if Harley Died AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilight_Shadow_Songs/pseuds/Twilight_Shadow_Songs
Summary: There's a lot of ways to start a story, being the brother that should have died is one of them. Being the Joker's lawyer is another. Being the Joker'slovera third. There's a lot of ways to start a story.Let's start where a lonely boy takes the job of representing an equally lonely mad man, and go from there.Let's start whereBarry Quinzelbecomes Joker's Harlequin.We'll end where the Lonely Harlequin isn't so lonely, we'll end where he's happier.
Relationships: Barry Quinzel/Cisco Ramon, Barry Quinzel/Joker
Series: Sweet Sweet Oblivion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646461
Comments: 15
Kudos: 18





	1. The Rise of The Harlequin

“So handsome, what’s your name?” 

“Barlow Quinzel. And for the purposes of building your case, I need your full and legal name as well.”

Acid washed white skin pulled ruby red lips into a frown, before it quirked into another smile. 

“That’s boring! My given name is  _ boring! _ I much prefer reinventing myself, don’t you?”

An up and coming lawyer sat across from the infamous and dangerous Joker. Dark brown hair combed carefully for a professional look, contrasting messy, unkempt green hair of the client. Ratty prison jumper versus a dark red suit of modest cut, and modest fabric. 

Bored dark blue eyes behind large glasses versus amused dark green, and the green and blue pairs currently in a stare off. 

“Mister, uh,  _ J _ ,” and though Barlow Quinzel held the stare and didn’t so much as twitch, he didn’t much enjoy the 

“Oh, I like  _ that _ . Call me Mister J, Quinnie. I  _ like that.”  _

Joker said with a lowered octave that had Barlow feeling an odd flutter in his stomach. He waited till it was settled, and by the way Joker smirked at his pause, he was aware what had happened. 

“Joker, I need your given name in order to proceed. You  _ asked _ for a lawyer. So here I am. As per your American rights. If you want to have any leg in court I need your name.” 

Joker snorted, grin getting bigger as he rested his chin on his hands. 

“So then I want to hear your full name, and preferred name.”

Barlow paused, hands frozen over his paper. 

“Excuse me?”

“What’s Barlow Quinzel’s full name, and does he have a preferred nickname?”

“That’s not really any of your business.” Barlow said as his eyes dropped to his papers, making small notes about the status of his client. ‘Manipulative’ was underlined twice. 

Joker pouted at him. 

“Just a nickname then? Pretty please? I’ll be a good boy if you let me know a nickname.”

Barlow, but only when he was working, sighed, fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose for a moment. If he was going to get anything he knew he had to humor the madman. 

“Barry. People call me Barry. Or Quinn, or Q. Though if we’re going to proceed I’d rather-”

“It’s Jack.”

“I-what?”

“Jack Napier. My name. Well, for now. But it’s legal enough.” 

“O-oh. Okay.” 

That was too easy. 

Mentally he went through the last name’s origins. It was originally Scottish, but there was a large group of Polish people who had it for a last name. Jack was English and had a known trend as being used to mean “nobody” or “no named”. He gave himself a small note to check that “Jack Napier” was in fact the name of the green haired enigma in front of him, not an alias, and if not either then certainly someone to find and bury properly.

“So...Quinn…”

Barry-could he consider himself in a Barry mindset? No, he was going to stay in the professional Barlow mindset right now, glanced at Joker. 

“Quinzell or Barlow, if you please.” 

“Ever danced with devils?”

Just then a guard gave them the five minute warning and Barlow snorted softly as he packed his briefcase. 

“Every single day. But none quite like you, I don’t think.”

Joker raised an eyebrow but Barlow didn’t elaborate. Personally he was going to refuse lest those people ended up dead. 

“Y’know, if you say “Barlow” and “Quinn” together fast enough-”

“You get a weird word that  _ almost _ resembles harlequin, I know.”

Joker laughed, and Barlow tried to stop the shudder. It wasn’t a very nice laugh.

“Are you harlequin?”

“...I’m no heroic devil from a 15th century comedy if that’s what you’re asking, no. I’m a lawyer.”

Though it could be argued a devil and a lawyer were just different flavors of the same evil. 

“Aw Quinnie Quinn, you’re no fun.”

Barlow rolled his eyes. “I’m on the clock, Mr. Napier. I don’t have time for ‘fun’ when I’m attempting to defend a homicidal maniac.”

“I still prefer Mister J.”

As Barlow was escorted from the meeting room with Joker, he made the mistake of glancing back at the sound of a soft giggle. 

“By Quinnie. See you soon.”

He wasn’t sure if the thundering heartbeat was a result of terror, or misplaced attraction. Given his incredibly rocky childhood where goodnight kisses were also fists in your face, he was going to say probably both.

God help him, he had so many issues. 

~*~

“Dude, you okay?” 

Barry started as fingers snapped in front of his face and blinked. He sighed, running agitated hands over his face. 

“Fuck, sorry. Been thinking about my new client.” 

His band mate made a sympathetic noise. 

“I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times. Don’t date your married boss!” 

Barry raised an eyebrow to his friend and went back to tuning his guitar. 

“I didn’t. I reported Dexter’s sorry excuse for seduction and his daddy sent him to some therapy since apparently it happens often. Between you and me, Dexter’s wife is an  _ incredibly  _ saintly woman for putting up with his cheating ass.”

“So it’s revenge for not sleeping with him?” Barry snorted at the question, pausing before looking at him.

“Considering the last three lawyers Joker’s had are dead? This is a straight up politey planned murder plot.” 

He smiled at his friend-Sykes-as the guy patted him on the back sympathetically.

“All I can say is, either quit and go into the music biz full time, or get your will in order and make sure I get your Les Paul.” 

They got up to do more practice, but Barry’s mind wasn’t on the song (A hard rock cover of shape of you by Ed Sheeran), but on a young woman bleeding out on a kitchen floor, and the dark green eyes of an absolute madman. 

Not for the first time, Barlow Victor Quinzel wondered what would have happened if Harley hadn’t died. Gotham had been her dream, not his. 

~*~

“Mister J. Nearly everyone in Gotham wants you dead, there’s been an incredible amount of violence, and while there hasn’t been any charges you  _ did _ murder a minor.” There was at least one death directly related to Joker, and it was one of the oodles of hero sidekicks. A Robin, which was really on Batman for dressing the kid like a moving neon sign. 

“Circumstantial, all of it.” 

Barlow sighed. They’d been doing this song and dance for nearly two months, and all Barlow had gotten was a stronger and stronger suspicion the cops in Gotham were more useless than the cops in Brooklyn, and either Joker was insanely good at covering his tracks, or he was telling the truth. 

“Mister J. If it’s false you need to tell me your side of the story. Since the city is requesting a hearing about your insanity claim, I-“ 

A warm, ghost pale hand wrapped around the hand holding his papers down. It was the first time Joker had crossed the barrier of the table between them. 

Barry’s breath stuttered as he jumped, his head whipping up to look at Joker. Who was smiling at him with the strangest, most bitter, melancholy. 

“My side doesn’t matter. I don’t fit the mold, no villain does, and they,” he nodded to the guards not really paying attention to them. “Don’t  _ like _ it when you don’t fit the mold. And laws don’t protect the weirdos, Quinn. You’d know that.” 

Barry looked from Joker’s face to the hand that had gone to properly hold his, and back to the earnest sadness in those green eyes. 

“...I do.” he confirmed softly, and pulled his hand away from Joker’s, gently gently. 

“But if you want to avoid a life sentance, and possibly the death sentance, like you claim, you have to talk to me, Jack. Tell me your side of the story. Let me represent you.” 

The guards seemed to finally notice something was going on and moved to aid Barry-Barlow, he had to be  _ professional _ here. Getting flustered wasn’t a good idea. This man was a brilliant killer. 

“You want to hear  _ my _ story?” Joker asked as they grabbed him. “Mine?” he sounded so disbelieving and Barry could have wept for it while the guards carted him off. 

Joker was crazy, absolutely insane, but perhaps part of it was he just needed someone to talk to. 

“You okay, Mr. Quinzel?”

“...Yes” he said softly, waiting for them to let him out of Belle Reve. “Yes, I’ve just got things to think about. Defending Joker seems to be an uphill battle.”   
  
“Well, two months is longer than his last three lawyers, so that’s something.”

The fact that the fear that used to be there when he heard that sentance was now gone should have been a warning flag, honestly. 

~*~

“Barlow, are you quite alright?” 

“Hm?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

Barlow looked up at his co-worker Dixie Allen. He didn’t have the heart or guts to tell her he hadn’t, actually, really been sleeping. Because sleeping meant wet dreams over a certain green haired client and honestly  _ admitting _ that, was the last thing he wanted to do. He offered her a small smile as he rubbed an eye with the heel of his hand. 

“I’m just stressed, Dixie. Joker’s hearing is in two weeks. One of the most hated men in Gotham, and I’m flying to Loisiana once a week to talk to Joker twice a week because he doesn’t feel safe in Gotham.” He still didn’t know who was paying for these trips, as he wasn’t and the firm certainly wasn’t.

He let his face drop into his hands.

“He hasn’t killed me, or set a hit on me and I’m not precisely sure if it’s because I’m just  _ that good _ , or if he’s toying with me. The faster this is done, the better.”

Because the sooner Joker was out of his life, the sooner Barlow could get over him and focus on his life and job again. Focus on the things he could have that made him happy rather than the one man he couldn’t so much as kiss without Joker being beaten for it by trigger happy guards. 

Dixie sighed. 

“That one seems good at making everyone around him go stone cold crazy, Barlow. Maybe take a couple days and relax. Go over your plan this week, and see him next week to finalize, then the hearing. Don’t let this stress kill you.”

He met Batman for the first time at the end of the day. 

It was when he was alone in the building, doing his best to finalize a document for another client, that the Bat showed himself.

“Mr. Quinzel.”

“Batman.”

He returned as he blinked away exhaustion to get the papers looked over, making sure he hadn’t caused a typo. He made a startled noise as he was spun around in his chair and then caged in by one of the most intimidating people on earth. 

“You’re Joker’s lawyer.”

“Yes.” 

“You know his history?”

“Well, not all of it. Though I think the fact he can’t clearly remember his life before that chemical bath is probably because of said chemical-ow! Don’t shake me!” 

Batman backed off and Barlow mentally tried to put himself together. 

“Look, Batman. I know he’s insane. I know he killed that kid-your kid. I  _ know that _ . But-” he sighed softly. “But he requested a lawyer. And I’m not a quitter.”

“You love him.”

A flat accusation that landed more like a mix of resigned realization and a fact. Barry bristled slightly at it. But more because, damn him, Batman was  _ right _ , than anything else.

“I try not to have relationships with clients, sir. He’s no different. My main goal is to represent him, take whatever the results are, try not to die by his hands, and get on with my life.”

Though an old and familiar bitterness was seeping from the depths of Barry’s core, flavoring his speech and behavior. As of right now, when he saw Batman, he saw his father. His father who’d killed Harleen. And the old, horrid hate of a man who’d barely cared for his children was being washed over the bat themed vigilante. 

Because Barry had seen every picture of the aftermath of Batman and Joker’s fights. Joker always seemed to end up in worse condition. 

“Make sure that’s all that happens.” Batman cautioned gruffly. “Believe me, getting caught in his undertow is the last thing you want.”

Barry had a sudden thought of stabbing Batman through the small piece of exposed throat with his pen. It was so detailed for a moment he thought he had. He collapsed in his chair. 

“I’m not the one who knocked out four of his teeth and broke his arm in three places.” he muttered angrily. “And If I knew who you were, under that stupid mask, I’d take you to court on his behalf for damages.”

When he looked up though, Batman was gone. 

~*~

They won the hearing, and when they tried for parole, they won that too. 

Barry was a total hotshot (and feared, suddenly. The shrinking violet Barry was intimidating now) in his firm. He moved on to bigger cases, though Joker was a permanent client.

And, privately, his boyfriend. 

Joker’s mouth and hands did the most brilliant things with Barry’s body. For the first time since he was seventeen, sleeping with a man felt okay. 

Wine and dinner and a movie and sex. It was now his tradition for every saturday. The grief that Joker never stayed grew more and more unbearable, but he could handle it. Really.

A year and a half went by in a blur of Barry being happy. Of ignoring his parents. Of being a famous lawyer. Of dating a supervillain. 

Harley had never seemed further away, nor closer. She would have loved to pick Joker’s brains. 

The first time Joker had stopped by, he’d been rather delighted with Barry’s small collection of Harlequin items. Barry supposed it made sense, what with Joker liking the whole clown theme and all. 

Barry liked the duality, the conflict, of Harlequin. Harlequin was often considered the first comic hero in visual storytelling. A good devil who played pranks and hindered his master as often as he helped him, but always to further a goal. If anyone asked, Barry could list the entire history of the folkloric character. From late fourteenth century when he showed up in French stories, to mid fifteenth when he was in plays, to his evolution by the eighteenth century, to now. 

And Joker did ask about it. Barry’s fascination. His small collection of the old dolls and masks.

He also picked at Barry’s walls around his past. Pulled the story of two kids in a run down neighborhood in Brooklyn. A sister who always teetered on the edge of insanity and was fascinated with how the mind worked, a brother who clung to what little sanity he was allowed and gave himself a strict set of rules to follow, curious how to manipulate the rules of society.

Pulling out the story of the one time the sister was going to do something nice for the brother and was cut open in the kitchen, where the brother found her dying.

A willfully ignorant mother who wanted her daughter back. 

An abusive father who probably did more to push his kids into what they were than the brother cared to remember. 

Brother was fifteen or sixteen and applied to college as a joke after sister died. Got in. Applied to an ivy league as a joke. Got in. Became a lawyer by twenty three. 

A kick boxer to please dad, a gymnast to be his sister for his mom. A lawyer to be himself. A musician in a garage band to be himself, a piece he’d denied himself for years.

And Joker lovingly, cruelly, sweetly, pulled every fact about Barry out of him. Honestly it was partly with relief that Barry let Joker remake him, let him mix those pieces up. He was tired of being Barlow Quinzell, really. Tired of being the rule obsessed, music loving straight laced man who’d be married to his job till the day he died. Tired of avoiding his past. Jumping into the vat at the chemical plant was as much love for Joker as it was wanting the weak, scared teenager in the kitchen to finally die. 

The acid burned. It burned and burned and Barry stayed as long as he could underneath the liquid, letting it eat away everything that he was. 

But for all his new love and new resolve, there was still a small lucid part he couldn’t smother.

‘Hey,’ it said, as he watched peach peel away to reveal bone white, living skin beneath. ‘Hey’ it said again as Joker dressed him however he wanted. Usually like a slutty doll, or one of his little collected ones. ‘This isn’t okay!’ it shouted the first time “Puddin” threw him out a window and nearly paralyzed him. ‘This really isn’t okay!’ it screamed when he pretended to be Joker to let the man get away, taking the fall for his lover.

‘I can’t come back from this.’ It whispered, three years after he became Harlequin, handcuffed to a hospital bed, being looked at by Batman with pity.


	2. Suicide Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings of suicide, torture and rape mentions. It’s safe after the column of diamonds, follows the basic plot of suicide squad but with Cheetah, Silver Banshee, Firefly, Slade, and Jynx. And no Captain Boomerang or Deadshot. Rest of the cast, aside from Harley and background characters, are the same.

Three months in Belle Reve, in apparently Joker’s old cell, and all Barry could say was “deja vu”. 

He wasn’t Joker, but to a lot of people he might as well be. Swap hair that had gone permanently green for permanently blond, ruby red lips for a red so dark it might be black, a gruff, rusted, melancholic, laughing voice for something a little higher with a bit more of an anxious cadence with a thick Brooklyn accent. Purple suits for red and black halter tops.

Practically interchangeable. 

Barry had been more interested with the prison lately, aside from mentally preparing for his daily torture sessions that weren’t anywhere _near_ as cruel as Joker’s. A small part of him took solace in the prison’s predictable nature, actually. 

So when new super villain inmates started being brought in, Barry _noticed_. He could even name most of them as they were dragged in. 

Silver Banshee, muzzled like a dog. Barry couldn’t help but shudder at that treatment, and wondered if there were contingency plans for every documented superpower. As a former lawyer who’d dealt intimately with the American government right before he’d landed himself on the most wanted list, he was banking on a hard _yes._

Deathstroke next, and as he was dragged past Barry’s cell-cage really- Barry waved a little at him. Deathstroke stopped struggling long enough to look confused at Barry as Barry smiled at him. “Hey lawyer boy, this legal?” 

“Barely, but yes.” 

Killer Croc, (Barry was electrocuted and beaten when he cheered the man on for eating two of the guards’ heads), a little goth girl with highlighter pink hair, Cheetah, and Firefly. 

After a while, nobody else came in that was worth noting. But whatever was going on seemed to have changed the rules a little, because the guards started being a bit more of a bit more. 

“You’re lucky you’re in there, and we’re out here.”

“Mm,” Barry responded, semi-distracted as he shadow kick-boxed to stay in shape since they never seemed to actually want to let him walk around. “Would that be because you want to bend me over your desk, Captain Deckly, or because you want to watch your _men_ have their way with me?”

“Excuse me?!” erupted as shocked and uncomfortable laughter shot out a few of the newer guards. Barry dropped out of his stance and gave a ringmaster’s bow with a large grin. 

“I live to cause laughter!” he said, laughing himself. 

“Nah lawyer boy, you’re lucky you’re in there, because out here nobody would pause before killing you.”

“They’d all be welcome to try.” He said, standing properly and walking to the bars of the inner cage, as close as possible to the captain. Who held up Barry’s phone with a smirk.

“We figured out your password.” 

Barry held himself very still, willing all of his muscles to turn to stone as his eyes zeroed in on his phone, his current only connection to Mister J. The only thing he had to make sure his Puddin knew he was alive. 

“Be a good boy and maybe we’ll read your messages from Joker.”

“If good boy means not trying to kill you when you unlock my cage for those “special sessions”, smash the phone.”

It fell out of his mouth before he could process anything more than rage at this little insect of a man trying to manipulate god knows what out of him and intimidate him. 

Those sessions were testing a lot of his mental resolve. He’d very very nearly killed himself though, to get away from the agony. Stitches in his wrists were testament. 

Deckley just laughed a little. 

“Looks like the little whipped puppy’s not as whipped as we thought.”

  
  
Barry smiled sweetly at him. “Baby, Joker’s my puddin an he can do whatever he wants with me and to me. You’re the shit on the bottom of my shoe and I’d rather be castrated with a rusted butter knife than play nice with such a creepy jackass.”

Deckley let the phone slip through his fingers and although Barry knew it was just a game and it wouldn’t be dropped the next thing he knew he was pressed against the bars, one arm out and straining to try and rescue his phone. Deckley grabbed the arm through the outer bar and pulled on it till Barry thought it would be dislocated. 

“Here’s the thing, _precious_ .” Deckley snarled at Barry, who was grimacing at the pain. “You’re in here because that crazy fuck has a hard on for the Batman, not you. You’re in here because killing people is illegal and _you KNOW that.”_ and you’re in here because sluts like you can’t live on their own. They need a daddy. So be a good boy and stop killing my men and maybe everyone can be happy.”

Barry inched his eyes open slightly, despite the pain. 

“The second I get out of this goddamned prison, I’ll rip your throat out myself.”

Deckley smirked and held his walkie to his mouth. 

“Captain Deckley here. You can turn the electric current on again, let’s light the doll up.”

Barry snarled at Deckley, and himself for letting Deckley play him. 

“Oh you-gyAHHHH!!!”

Deckley held Barry against the bars of the cell as a current roared through him, his scream going through a throat ripping itself raw. He waited a few seconds and let go, letting Barry’s muscles fling him back, Barry’s flight only ending when his back hit his cot. He fell to his side and curled into himself, shaking and coughing.

“Pretty kids like you get hurt around here, Barlow Quinzel” said the captain in an almost believable diplomatic tone. “You think you’re better than anyone else because you got a law degree? Because the way I see it, you’re still an inmate, and I’m not.”

Barry lifted his head and unclenched a hand long enough to offer a shaky, bloody grin and the middle finger before fainting, his body still twitching slightly from the electrocution. 

~*~

He’d been right, and something gave. 

A woman named Amanda Waller stood in front of his cell/cage and talked to him as he practiced his pratfalls and handstands. Behind her was an army of guards and a little mouse of a woman by a white knight boy. 

“I have a proposition you can’t refuse.”

“Well, I actually _could_ . But it’s refuse and die or get placed in an even more secure location with more and more rights taken away till I _have_ to accept.”

She paused and he smiled at her as he moved from a one handed handstand to standing properly. 

“I’m fully aware that I’m considered a terrorist and can only be absolved through death or pardoning. And before I’m absolved I’m not exactly a legal citizen and therefore you can completely use all of these tortures without fear of repercussion by the law.”

  
  


She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. 

“I try to keep up with the new rules and current big cases. I might be Joker’s Harlequin but I’m also still a lawyer.”

She looked like she needed a drink. 

“Alright then, here’s how this is going to work if you accept. You are considered a stain on society. That’s true. You’re also a freak nobody likes.” she ignored his sarcastic pout. “And I’m making a group of other freaks nobody likes to take down threats that nobody else can deal with. Do you follow so far?”

“..I getcha.” He said, hands in a prayer position under his chin as he thought about it. “Because if you lose control of this group you can claim they’re working on their own and freely hunt them down. And if they actually do what ya need, lady, they get absolved of the crimes that put them in your harpy claws in the first place. Shortened sentance too, since those go bye bye. Not that you care what happens t’pawns.”

He looked past her to the girl and her knight. 

“...there a reason the mouse is here?” Her knight shifted in front of her. 

“You’re a good example of what happens when people lose control.” A guard said, and Barry rolled his eyes. 

“Me? Of every single villain in Gotham, of every single one, _I’m_ the best example for that?”

He glanced at the girl. “It’s only losing control if you don’t know who’s looking back from the mirror, okay?”

  
“Careful Quinzel, you’re skating on thin ice.” Waller barked. 

He smirked. 

“D’aww, cute. It’s almost like you care, Miss Waller-it’s Miss, right?”

She gave a slow nod of allowance. 

He took a breath. 

“Generally I’d tell you to choke on a brick” he held up a hand to indicate he wasn’t done. “But seriously I’m not actually lookin ta get out...yet. And you wouldn’t have _let_ me get a smaller sentence. Cuz I’m figurin if I live I’d be bait for a bigger fish, yea? And that fish will know where I am after, so...no matter the time, right?” she let him collect himself, a small smirk at him indicating he was right and she was minorly impressed, probably. Or she thought he was an idiot. Either way.

“If I live, I want a better bed, and a coffee machine. And better books. Law books, fantasy, this point I don’t care I just wanna read somethin that ain’t a _harlequin romance_.” It was an annoyed growl as he picked one of the offenders up and threw it at the bars. Though honestly it was a rather clever little joke. If incredibly annoying. 

Waller waited but Barry was done.

“That’s it?”

He shrugged a little. 

“Better food seemed like a pretty hard thing ta ask for in this place, if ya get me. Figured I’d ask for somethin I knew wouldn’t be fuckin impossible.” 

She smirked at him and he had to hand it to her, it was more intimidating than an angry Joker’s smile.

“Alright Mr. Quinzel, let’s see how good you are. Earn those law books.” 

Barry backed up to the other side of the cage as he took in just how many guards she had around her and her guests. He could feel the crackle of electricity at his back and stopped about a foot before he’d smack into those bars.

In the end it was endless numbers versus limited stamina and atrophied muscles, and the numbers won.

Nothing was broken, of course not, but he had to bet every inch of his bleached skin was probably covered in the sick purple of bruising. 

Still, he’d taken out an entire heap of Amanda’s guards before he was brought down, and he took solace in that it was good stress relief so that counted for something. 

~*~

They expected them to dress in the open with a bunch of guards ogling them, and with two women in the group. One of whom was a minor. He could hardly count Cheetah since she was mostly a cat by now and went past her clothes for her other things. Barry unwrapped the prison shirt from where it was tied to his waist after a long moment and walked to Jynx.

“Put this on and dress under it, kid.” She narrowed her eyes at him but took the shirt, which was going to dwarf her. 

“Why the fuck are you being nice.” Jynx asked suspiciously. “Are you a pedo or somethin? Trying to make me trust you?” He shook his head.

“Nobody dressing would hurt you, okay?” he gestured to the guards ogling Banshee. “But the piggies over there _absolutely_ would. And yea, I get it, you’ve got powers. But so do half the other people with bombs in their necks.” She stared at him.

He waved at her as he walked back to his clothes.

“You’re sixteen Jynx. You’re not a piece of meat and you shouldn’t be treated like that.”

“What about me, you jackass?” Banshee shouted over and Barry grinned at her.

“Siobhan, I only had one shirt. I was going to prioritize the minor, and you know it. So don’t start shit with me gorgeous.”

He put on his ratted fishnet shirt, then his crop top tank top with “Daddy’s Favorite Nightmare” on it, his leather jacket with his signature diamonds on the back, and his black and white skinny jeans he’d repurposed into knee length shorts. Followed by red gloves and red faux leather biker boots. 

“Fuck Quinn, could you be any more of a freak? You look like hot garbage.” he stuck his tongue out at Deathstroke playfully. 

“Better to be hot garbage than just garbage, right, Banshee?”

She started coming towards him, and he pulled out his nail bat, twisting it like he would his spiked mace Joker had given him for their anniversary last year before pointing it at her. 

“Watch it Siobhan, because I can and will smash your face in.”

~*~

“Stop riling up everyone around us, Quinn.” Deathstroke said quietly as they walked down quarantined roads. “Starting fights with people we need to work with isn’t the best idea.”

Barry’s lips wobbled but maintained a sarcastic and bitter smile. His head was bowed to the ground as his nailbat was balanced across his shoulders by careful gloved hands.

“Sladie baby, maybe you don’t gotta worry. Since you get ta see your kid after before you go back in. But me? They expect me t’be a good little trained dog, and then they seem ta expect me ta go back to that cage with a wagging tail. Lemme have a little fun, at least. Cuz I ain’t countin on seein a sky for a good while after, yea?”

“So make shit die. But I don’t want my head blown off Quinn. And too much in-fighting is gonna do that and you know it.” 

Barry grimaced, nodding. He could feel it against the base of his skull, the explosive. Getting his head turned into harlequin pudding seemed a little much, even for him. 

“So Mista Slade, want me to scout a bit? Or hang back an just avoid everyone till I’m needed ta cave skulls.” 

“We stick together. But...if you need to _call someone_ , by all means I’m not gonna stop you.” Barry smiled in quiet thanks.

“Gotta save battery, but I’ve been thinkin bout textin, thanks Sladie.” 

Deathstroke gave a small nod and moved to talk to the girl Barry had been lowkey harrassing. Probably convince Katana _not_ to murder the Harlequin the next chance she got.

The uptight Rick Flag moved to Barry and grabbed his arm. 

“The fuck are you playing at, Harlequin?” He said quietly and Barry wrenched his arm out of the man’s hand. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, honey. I don’t have any interest in yer personal angst or shitty ideas that you’re in control. I’m here because I want a decent bed for once. And b’cuz you’re as whipped as I am an I do like happy endins in romances.”

Rick looked at him with something like disgust and Barry felt his gut twist uncomfortably. Hello shame, didn’t know you were still alive. “We are _not_ the same, Harlequin.” Barry shrugged.

“Love has many stems but only has one flower, as th song goes. So maybe you ain’t much like me on th surface, but you’ve still fallen so hard her name is etched into your heart and that’s not gonna change.” he smiled halfway gently.

“I saw how ya looked at that girl outside my cage. You were ready t protect her. From me an whatever else could hurt her. I don’t see her here, so I’m gonna see we get t th extraction point, an get th mark, an then get ya back t her, okay?”

Rick scowled at him. 

“I read your file, Harlequin.”

“Most people ask me t dinner b’fore hittin me with my own backstory.” Barry responded dryly. 

“You made a name for yourself, got out of that hole of a family, became something, was helping society, and then...what the fuck happened?”

A lot. Whips, chains, broken bones, desperation because he was still a lonely bitter kid on a kitchen floor and Joker was the first person who’d started the actual dating with an “are you okay” instead of “Do you want to fuck.” Joker had been halfway decent and it was so easy to fall for him. To excuse the abuse because everything else felt so very good. Because when Joker broke him apart he usually made sure to put him together again. Because he didn’t want to be Barlow Quinzel anymore. 

“I ain’t gonna defend myself t’you, Ricky. I’m not th one walking around with controls made to blow heads apart if my little toys don’t do what I want. So don’t you dare play morality games with me. I’m not in the mood to softball you in a legal or moral argument.”

  
  


To his credit, the man took the warning and fucked off. 

  
  


Over at the edge the little teenager girl, Jynx, was caving in on herself. Barry watched her and nodded once in quiet approval as Rick actually tried to comfort her. Good. He was figuring it out. 

Cheetah seemed to be either dead or hiding. Okay. Firefly was definitely dead. Fine. The little girl wasn’t going to die. 

He took his phone from his back pocket, snapped a photo of their surroundings, and sent it to his Puddin with a “ **_we also need to get bombs out of our necks. I’ll call you when it’s safe_ **.”

He closed his eyes, giddy at the response.

“ **_Tell me where to find you. I can get the bomb out baby._ **”

Hot damn he loved Joker.

~*~ 

“Every tat covers a scar made by Puddin, see.”

“You have a lot of tats, Mr. Quinn.”

“Just reminders pleasure goes good with pain, Jynx.”

“Coming from an assassin, that’s disturbing Barry.”

“Pussy.”

“Shut the fuck up you know I’m not afraid to knock your dumb ass out.”

◈◈◈

◈◈◈

◈◈◈

“You-you _fucking_ asshole!”

He felt hot, and angry, and terrified. Diablo got between him and Rick, ready to set him on fire if he tried to attack again.

“Calm down. Killing him is gonna be the last thing you wanna do.”

“My boyfriend is dead-probably-and this fucker knew what was going on the whole time. I wouldn’t have called Mistah J if I’d known, okay?!”

A small wail as he gripped his hair, choking on pain. 

“If Joker’s dead I’m just a slutty excuse for a lawyer with no sense of self preservation and a whole shit ton of people who want my head!”

Someone slapped him. It didn’t stop the tears but it shut him up. He swallowed thickly for several minutes before taking a breath. 

“I need a drink. Something with a literal lethal amount of alcohol.” he pointed at Rick. “This is your mess right now. And I’ll break your knees if you tell me no.” he looked at everyone there and wiped his bleeding mouth. “I think everyone needs a break anyway.”

People followed him and it felt very strange. Though he supposed attempting to attack a colonel in the US army for being indirectly responsible for Joker’s apparent death had ramped up his intimidation points. Of course, it probably helped he’d _caused_ that in the first place. 

He’d find a way to grieve privately later. Right now he wanted alcohol. 

The bar was, thankfully, vacated. None of those creepy zombies, no cowering humans. Barry nimbly leaped over the bar and took stock of the alcohol there before turning to his companions. 

“Lessee, Banshee don’t drink,” she nodded. 

“A year sober. And going to keep it that way, despite this shit.” he gave her a thumbs up.

“Diablo _shouldn’t_ drink.” Diablo nodded once. “And while I think the little girl has more than earned a drink, as a servant of the law I’m gonna say she will _not_ drink.” he ignored Jynx’s indignant protest. “But she can have as many maraschino cherries as she wants, and whether or not they’re soaked in hard alcohol is up to her.” she quieted down. 

  
  


“So,” Rick started, uncomfortable, “How did you all...Like I know but I still…”

“How did we get here to be in this ‘Suicide Squad’, you mean.” Banshee said flatly.

Barry started mixing drinks. “Oh are we playing origin story now? Cuz I vote Diablo go first.”

“Vete a la mierda.” Diablo muttered. Barry held up a seltzer water with lemon. “I am literally going to hold your drink ransom until you talk. An I’d rather someone else fuck me, thanks.”

Diablo glared at him before sighing and holding his hand out for the drink. “I was born with the gift of the devil. The older I got and more bad I did, the stronger it got. And I didn’t listen to nothing from nobody. Cept…” a small, tender smile slipped through. “My girl. She was praying for me, ya know.” he stopped smiling. “But why would God take a gift he’d never given in the first place? She wanted to take our kids, give me a couple...a couple days to cool off…”

“Your kids and wife?” Jynx asked hesitantly, “what happened?”

Barry looked at her, withdrawn.

“He killed em, kiddo. And it was probably an accident, but crimes of passion are still crimes.”

“Yea, you’d know better than anyone, wouldn’t you, Barlow Quinzel?” Deathstroke asked and Barry snorted.

“You betcha Sladie. And since you know th story, why don’t you tell em? Cuz you’ve been itchin to since goin t get Waller.” Deathstroke gave him a look as he took his drink and knocked it back.

“Barlow Quinzel. You know, this mother fucker isn’t just a lawyer, he can sing, too. Had a garage band, had a good career. Thing is, Barlow is a kid under a long shadow. They never did find his sister’s killer.” Barlow leaned till their noses almost touched. 

“Tell em how ya know. Tell em why we got a thing now.”

“One, not a thing, and two, I was hired to shoot his sorry ass, back before he got blond hair and went for contacts all the time. But a bit after he started going steady with Joker.”

Barry smiled and continued for Slade. “He let me know what was goin on, and we got to talking. First gun I bought he helped me pick out.” Slade’s eyes narrowed the barest fraction.

Barry looked at Banshee. A couple nights after I took my acid bath, which means the second my skin stopped feeling like the most severe sunburn in the world, I dressed up all special like, and went to the fucker’s house on a night his wife wasn’t there. You’d get it.”

Banshee laughed darkly. “Yea, I do.”

Barry locked eyes with Rick. “T’answer an earlier question. I got through college while also gettin a high school diploma and workin three jobs. Finished law school while workin as well. Different jobs t’pay through it cuz my parents weren’t gonna. I applied to four dif’rent law firms an th second I got a job I went pretty much catatonic for two weeks before gettin my ass ta Gotham.” he began mixing himself a drink.

“Denvers and Denvers. Denvers Junior kept wantin my mouth on his dick. Denver Junior was found in a canal a week after he went missin. But funny enough, becomin Joker’s boy hasn’t done much aside from change clothes an my clientele. Super villains ain’t a huge leap for a lawyer in the criminal courts.” 

Barry pushed Rick a shot before picking up his Blue Hawaiian. 

“I’m never gonna apologize for it either. Cuz I don’t see me as fallen. Not really.”

Jynx sighed, laying her head on the counter. “I cause nothing but bad luck and decay. I caused a building to collapse and I decided to rob a museum. Apparently the security guard’s doing okay though.”

“You people are all horrible.” Rick whispered. 

“Not a single person here is a good person, my friend” Siobhan said diplomatically.

“We’re all ugly on th inside” Barry confirmed, feeling a little lighter with the booze. “But Croc’s ugly all the way through.”

“Not me short stop, I’m gorgeous.”

Barry winked at him “yea you are baby.”

Slade and Rick were having a moment, Katana was talking to Jynx, Diablo making small fire people. Barry looked at Siobhan. 

“Sleep for a couple hours and then move on? Kid’s dead on her feet, I think we all are.”

~*~

Sorceress’ illusions were really nice. The ‘it’s too perfect, Barry’ sort of nice. He liked it, he never wanted to leave it despite how it broke his heart. 

A lawyer and an accountant, two adopted kids, and a psychologist sister working in Arkham. Everyone living their best lives. And oh he knew it wasn’t real, and knew and knew but 

Barry Napier sounded really nice. 

And those children were so beautiful. 

And Harleen was beautiful, and happy, and _alive_.

“It’s not real! You don’t really want this! She can’t give you those fantasies!”

Banshee shouted, and Diablo reaffirmed. And Barry knew but also Barry still wanted that. A happy domestic life with his husband, and two kids. His sister still around. 

He might have joined Sorceress if Banshee and Diablo hadn’t gotten crushed with her brother. As it was he let himself walk to her, holding his hands to his chest as he stared at her.

“If I join you, you’d bring Puddin back?” people were shouting at him and he had to ignore them.

“I can bring whatever you want to reality child.”

“And Gee that sounds really nice” he got close to her, so close. 

“But the devils I dance with needa be the ones I choose, an I don’t wanna dance in ruins with vapors.”

Her eyes widened, and he slammed his hand to her chest, digging through flesh.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” he pleaded with her.

Jynx crushed the heart in his hand with her power, since it was bad luck for Sorceress, and the body fell.

When the little mouse was in her boy’s arms she looked at Barry.

“You’ve only lost control when you don’t know who’s staring at you from a mirror, right?” 

He smiled with mental exhaustion. “There ya go sweetheart.”

~*~

The law books were a nice change, and the coffee tasted heavenly. The bed would have been better with someone in it with him but, well this was fine. He was also allowed to walk around a little and he thought that was a massive improvement. 

A couple months into it, when he started piecing his head and heart together, there was a commotion. 

When the doors blew open and Joker stood in front of the cage, Barry grinned, and began laughing as he stood to meet his Puddin. 

“Quinnie Quinn, miss me?”

“Kiss me Mista J. An when we get home I’ll show you _how much_ I missed ya”

He stopped long enough to kill captain Deckley, and then they were gone. 


	3. Savage Beasties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My own take on how the Birds get together. All movie cast sans Harley is there, but everything is different (aka similar plot but no spoilers) 
> 
> Jason is an angry undead child, and Barry can’t stop giving his heart to any guy who respects him.
> 
> Also Sionis is so in the closet he’s having tea with Aslan.

After Belle Reve and that stupid Suicide Squad adventure, things had shifted between Barry and Joker, and Barry wasn’t quite sure how to fix it. There were several break ups and make ups but every time Barry felt Joker get farther and farther away. 

Plus the abuse got worse and worse till he couldn’t just excuse it anymore. Couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

And when he came home to one of their safe houses they were staying at and found his stuff in two duffel bags and Joker and their crew gone, he did what any logical person would do. 

He grabbed his stuff and torched the building.

Barry also wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t mentally at a place where he could be independent. And while he’d squirreled away what now amounted to a small fortune from the heists, that money was going to run out. The best thing to do was get a job, get back to a passably good mental health where swallowing razor blades and arsenic wasn’t a constant temptation, and learn how to be his own person again. 

But who that person was, well, Barry supposed he would just have to meet him on his own terms.

He started getting into roller hockey. He didn’t particularly like it but it wasn’t something he’d ever done with Joker so that was something. Really it seemed like something he and Harley would have had fun with, once upon a time. 

Started looking for band members since his old ones were...well….permanently on the missing persons lists for various reasons. Joker had a specific taste in music and while Barry had sung for him, Barry’s favorite genre wasn’t tainted by fond memories of Joker, so it was still ok. 

He packed up most of the clothes Joker had liked dressing him in and bought new stuff, stuff  _ Barry  _ liked. Barry couldn’t get rid of the clothes Joker had gotten him. Not yet at least. Maybe not ever. But just because he kept them didn’t mean he had to wear them. 

He adopted a striped hyena from a closing zoo, named her Siobhan because he was drunk and the actual Siobhan might find that funny if she were alive. 

And honestly a spiteful part of him said “at least my hyena laughs at my jokes.” 

He partied at night to not be alone, aware nobody really knew Joker had finally decided to be done with him. And as nearly everyone in the United States wanted a piece of his ass, he kept his mouth shut.

Until he couldn’t anymore. 

Due to terf wars with Penguin leaving Joker and all affiliates banned for life from the Iceberg Lounge, Barry generally hung around Roman Sionis’s club. 

He liked being drunk out of his mind there. Sionis was a crazy fucker but he was also terrified of Joker. Nobody in their right mind messed with Barry there, because nobody wanted to be offered to the Joker sans a face for hurting his fuck toy. 

Which, bitterly, Barry realized that was all he ever had been. Bragging rights and an easy conquest. 

And then one night, as he was stumbling to the door and hoping he wasn’t going to puke in a cab again, Sionis stopped him.

“I don’t recall Joker liking you with long hair, Mr. Quinn.” he said conversationally, and Barry’s hand went to his head, suddenly really aware of how long his hair was now. Just past shoulders. 

_ Shit. _

“I like growin it out when he goes off. It’s actually healthier, y’see.” 

Sionis nodded sympathetically. 

“You took off his necklace.”

“I do it every time he throws me outta a car.” He said, straight faced. “At least this time the car was at a stop light.” He smiled at the guy. “It was my fault, I didn’t tell th joke right.” 

  
  


Sionis held his gaze before motioning with two fingers. 

Barry got very sober very quickly when a razor began caressing his neck, Sionis’ (most likely) boyfriend Zsasz holding him still with his other arm wrapped around his waist. 

Sionis himself pressed a gun to Barry’s forehead. 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just take off your pretty face, you little slut. Because I think you’re lying right now, so…”

  
  
  


Barry’s mouth opened and closed like a fish before he managed to stutter out

“Y-you need a new lounge singer! I can sing, I can sing!”

“You can sing?” Zsasz’s razor was removed from Barry’s throat. Barry nodded. 

“I used to be a singer and guitarist, years ago. And Joker liked my voice.” Sionis looked at him appraisingly before grabbing him and frog marching him to the stage. 

“Alright then, sing me something I like, or I shoot you and see if you were lying ” Sionis hissed in his ear as he was shoved to the microphone.

Something Roman Sionis liked? Barry was dead. He was so dead. 

He grabbed the mic, aware he only had one shot. People stared at him, Sionis stared at him. 

Barry closed his eyes, just going for the first thing he could think of. Burn The Witch by Shawn James.

_ “The flames lick at my feet _

_ Their hearts full of hate _

_ What they don't understand, they condemn _

_ What they can't comprehend must meet its end _

_ But I won't scream, won't give them that satisfaction _

_ No I won't confess my false interaction _

_ As I breathe deep and prepare for my passing _

_ I hear them chant, burn the witch _

_ I stand accused of bein' in league with Satan _

_ No proof for the false accusation _

_ Tied to the stake, no hope of escape _

_ I stand alone and embrace my fiery fate…” _

No bullet in his brain or arm yet. He kept going, getting a little more into his impromptu performance. 

He was just going to do this till he finished the song or someone killed him. 

When he finished the final lyric his knees were shaking. His body was still drunk, and he was scared. 

It was a different kind of scared than with Joker and this one wasn’t the fun kind. 

Sionis took the mic. 

“Joker’s agreed to lend me the lovely Barlow Quinn until I can find a new permanent lounge singer, so give it up for Harlequin!”

Blackmail. Barry felt sick. 

Sionis led him backstage, and pulled him to the upper rooms. 

“You’re going to sleep this off.” Barry was told conversationally. “Where I can keep an eye on you. No more maiming my guys yea?”

“..yea but I need to go to my apartment tomorrow” he said blearily. “My hyena is going to need to be fed and walked.”

“What, is the hyena the only one who thinks you’re funny?”

“Pretty much.” 

Barry was passed of to Zsasz, who helped him to a room and one of the beds. 

“I’ll talk to you in the morning. Don’t run off.” 

Barry let himself go limp as Roman shut and locked the door.

“Well damn, you’re in a tight fix.”

“You can go fuck right off, Nightwing.” 

“Honestly I’d punch you but it’d be like kicking a puppy.”

Barry sat up and rested his spinning head in shaking hands, elbows on knees.

“Please don’t say “told you so” right now. I really can’t listen to that as of this moment.”

“...Actually I came to give you a warning.” 

The younger man sat beside him, passing some photos to Barry.

“Two serial killers. One is going after men working for Sionis. One is going after anyone connected to Joker.” 

Barry groaned.

“So now I’m affiliated with both. Great! Just my luck!” 

Nightwing, to his credit, was quiet for a bit. 

“You should probably just go with whatever Sionis has planned. Until the serial killers are apprehended.”

“Sionis has a blackmail scheme on me. But yea, I can roll with it. I mean, nothing he’s planning is going to top the  _ least _ bad thing Joker did the past two years.” 

“I can say I feel bad for you, but I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“...Yea, he killed that sidekick didn’t he? That other Robin? Fuck I got him pardoned for that.”

“I know.” Nightwing said, his voice brittle with anger. 

Barry sighed. 

“There is nothing I can do to fix my fuck ups, Nightwing. And nothing I can say to make history change. But...thanks. For warning me. Despite it all.”

“I might not like you much Quinn, but I don’t want you dead.” 

Barry fell back onto the bed. 

“That’s something I guess.”

He began drifting off.

“I can be bait if you want. I’m used to it...”

When sleep claimed him he dreamed of laughter and a child crying.

~*~

Constant interactions with Sionis had given Barry one concrete theory about the man;

He was so far in the closet he was having tea with Aslan, and the self hate had morphed into hate for anyone openly gay, hatred of anything and anyone feminine, and he was compensating with his obsession of masks and the touch-starved panic fueled contact with Victor Zsasz, who seemed alright with where things stood between them. 

Barry was pretty sure that if Roman just admitted to himself he was in love with a man and liked men, his mental stability would be a lot less shaky. 

Though then again what did Barry know? His first real, non guilt ridden romance with a man had been Joker. 

Sionis was using Barry’s break up as black mail, though not to the extent Barry expected. Sionis pretty much wanted him under employ long enough to pay back damages, and had set up a schedule to let it appear Barry still had other responsibilities. Once Barry paid back everything, Sionis didn’t particuarly care what happened to him, but the option to stay on as an employee was an option. 

There were rules, of course.

Home, park (with Siobhan and one or two guards), store (again, guards), and the club. Now and then, if he’d earned it, restaurant. The serial killers were still loose after all, it wouldn’t be good if Barry died before his debts were paid.

No dating and limited flirting.

He wasn’t allowed to write his own contracts, but he was free to help the other lawyers cover up the illegal shit Sionis did. Which said shit was a lot less bizarre (and thus less challenging), than Joker’s.

No smoking, getting drunk, or other drug use, this was just a general rule for employees.

No killing patrons, but killing people Roman wanted dead but didn’t want Victor to go after were free game, and Barry could keep a fourth of those earnings.

Batman had visited about the Joker related serial killer a few times. He was calling himself Red Hood apparently. One of Joker’s old pseudonyms. While Barry knew the Red Hood stories (Joker had about four for the Red Hood part of his life he enjoyed cycling through), Barry couldn’t really help Batman too much. There were far, far too many people Joker had openly hurt for the sake of hurting. Barry and Batman especially.

And then there was that forming of the Justice League, and finding out people who could live underwater were an honest to god literal thing. (And okay, did anyone else find their new king Arthur incredibly hot or was it just him?), an entire  _ family _ in Boston of superpowered pseudo Superman people (though they all were quite adamant they weren’t in fact Kryptonian, but a race of ancient immortal wizards), and Wonder Woman. Among others. Batman’s attention was divided but his little family in Gotham were up to the task of keeping Barry in check.

But with all that he had a semi-stable life now, time still marched forward. 

And then somehow it was his and Joker’s anniversary, and he was alone.

To his credit, he’d been surprised the numbness had lasted the five months and not cracked apart sooner. But maybe now that he was finally sober for more than two days at a time, his heart was allowed to actually realize what was up.

And so here he was, alone and without much in way of protection, standing on the catwalk he’d jumped from all those years ago. Trying to make up his mind about whether or not it’d be worth it to blow the fucking place up. He stared into the chemical vat, watching the green liquid bubble and fume softly.

“After everything we had.” he said, talking just to ease an ache. “You toss me aside. Cuz you didn’t really want me, you wanted something to brag about. Something to use. Something easy to hurt that always needed you.” his dark red lips pulled back into a hyena smile of pure agony. 

“I don’t know who I am without ya, Mister J. Because I let you twist me around and I don’t know anymore. You damaged me a lot, gave me things I dunno if I want. And now I don’t even know if I want to destroy anything connected to you. Because it hurts but it was  _ ours _ .” 

He froze when he heard clapping, and turned to the sound. 

“Aw, so sweet I could almost cry.” The voice was gruff and sarcastic. Barry grit his teeth, eyes closing for a moment before narrowing open. The person was in combat boots, jeans, a black leather jacket, and a red helmet. Red Hood. 

“Yea well, can’t say it to his face. He’d probably punch me. Or laugh. An like, dunno where Mi-Joker is.” 

Mentally he took stalk of his outfit. He was not wearing shoes for a fight. Black suede house slippers. Pants were black and white pinstripe jeans. He could probably be alright in them. Dark red velvet vest. Black velvet jacket. Jacket and slippers he could probably lose, everything else he’d have to just deal with. Neither his hands nor feet were taped for hand to hand combat. 

He was such an idiot, no wonder Joker’d left him.

Red Hood kept walking closer, Barry started walking backwards and away from the threat, body centered, hands in a defensive stance, ready. 

  
  


“I can’t see how anyone would want to sleep with the guy.” Red Hood said conversationally. Barry shrugged. Honestly he had no defense for it other than “I was lonely and I’m fucked up.” but he wasn’t going to tell  _ this _ freak that.

“He can be really charming when he wants to be.” Barry said lamely. “And once you start realizin he’s actually fuckin nuts, you’re in way too deep an dunno who ya are.”

Red Hood took a gun out of a coat holster and aimed at Barry. 

“I’ve got half a mind to just kill you now.”

“You and the entire US government. Plus most of Gotham, civilian and otherwise, oh and probably half of Brooklyn if I’m being honest. That area in downtown Tokyo, uh..Iceland. Two alien planets...”

His back hit a guardrail, near the stairs. He grimaced, trying to gauge if making a run for it and hoping the guy’s aim was bad was a good idea. A bullet hit by his hand on the rail, and Barry knew it was a warning shot. Okay, running was not a good idea. 

“Do you ever shut up?” 

“I’m a lawyer, running my mouth is  _ literally my job. _ ” Another bullet, through his jacket. He flinched.

“Look Red Hood dude, I don’t want to fight.”

“Well, I don’t mind hitting a non moving target.” Barry sighed, fed up. “Sweetie, not remotely what I meant.”

When Red Hood leveled the gun at him again Barry watched the gloved hand, waiting. 

The muscles flexed, Barry went into a tumble, feeling the bullet in his hair. He leapt upright and fell into a dead run at the guy, who was thankfully maybe only fifteen feet away and momentarily surprised Barry was actually moving.

The main concern was getting the gun out of the hand and getting the guy in a position he wouldn’t be able to attack Barry.

Red Hood backed up, Barry grabbed the gun hand and pulled, keeping it straight and at an angle so he couldn’t shoot his head. When the guy stumbled forward Barry reached out to grab his shirt. With his free hand Red Hood grabbed Barry’s arm, swinging him around and into the bars. Barry flung himself over the bars, hands firmly grasping the metal as he kicked his slippers off and swung away from the bullets, before swinging back up and standing on the guard rail.

He didn’t want to fight tonight. He felt lousy and broken and alone.

This was his anniversary, of making it official and of getting like this, and he hadn’t ever imagined he’d be spending it by himself and miserable. 

A hand grabbed his ankle and pulled him back onto the catwalk. 

“Can’t you move normally?!”

“A Harlequin never simply walks when he can somersault!” 

“Fucking hell I hate acrobats.” The guy grunted and Barry kicked the metal helmet with his heel, whimpering at the pain. He writhed around and brought his hand to the helmet, raking his fingernails down it hard enough to cause sparks and the most horrible screeching sound. 

“Ow fuck! What the fuck?!” The guy screamed as he let go of Barry and clutched at his head, his ears probably ringing worse than Barry’s. 

Barry got to his knees and held up his aching fingers.

“Metal fingernails.” He said, breathing heavily and pushing some hair out of his face with the palms of his hands. 

“Okay, but  _ why _ ?!” 

Barry gestured at him.

“Effective.” 

The guy simply groaned, and Barry imagined he was conceding the point. 

“Put your hands up! GCPD!”

Barry groaned and raised his hands. 

“Hi Renee.” He called to the woman behind him. A beat and then very loud footsteps and an annoyed sigh.

“For fucks sake Barry.” Pause. “Mother of pearls is that Red Hood.” Barry allowed himself a small, victorious smile. 

“Beaten by Diet Joker.” He said smugly. Montoya hoisted him up by the arm. “Yea I’d shut your fuckin mouth Quinn. I’m pretty sure this little shit still wants you dead.”

Barry groaned, his foot throbbing. “Honestly this is just flirting for me.” He ignored the indignant squawk. 

“Why is he still there on the ground?”

“I wear bullet casings as fake nails and scraped the helmet really really hard.” 

Renee looked between them and closed her eyes for a moment.

“That’s it, I’m done. Everyone in Gotham is crazy. Why go for normal plastic fake nails when you can wear  _ bullet casings _ ? You don’t of course not. Because everyone one in this goddamned city is an extra in a mother fucking My Chemical Romance music video.”

“Even you Montoya?” He asked with a slight smirk as he pushed the guy in the ground back onto his stomach with a foot. She pointed at him warningly.

“You watch your motherfucking mouth Quinn.”

She went to get the guy cuffed, gruffly reciting his Miranda Rights. 

“I want a lawyer.” He said, as soon as she was done. She and Barry looked at each other. Barry sat on the railing and inspected his nails. 

“You want a lawyer?” At his affirmation she pushed him to Barry. “You want a new client, Mr. Quinzel?”

“I could manage a serial killer, as long as he doesn’t kill me.” 

He slung an arm around the guy’s waist, then paused. “Montoya…”

“Joker’s in Arkham, word’s got around he pushed you outta a car. I had a feeling you’d come here for your anniversary.” He nodded slowly. She pointed at the struggling, shouting killer in his arm. “Keep him out of sight, okay? Joker’s interested in putting him down, is what I heard.” The guy froze, and Barry sighed. 

“I ain’t gonna stop ya from tryin ta kill Joker. But I’m gonna say right now if you succeed and he just stays dead, you’ll be the very first to manage that.”

Montoya waved them off. “I’ve got other shit to take care of, Quinn. You heard about any diamonds?”

He shrugged. 

“Bertinelli Diamond’s supposed ta be comin t harbor, but like, it’s been rumored t’be comin for years. So…”

“Thanks Quinn.”

~*~

“Who’s the angry skunk in your living room?”

“Client. Maybe. It’s complicated. Do you want some food Ramon? Lance?”

Cisco and Dinah, two people who were also under Sionis’ employ and who could also both sing. Barry had started realizing a pattern about two days into this agreement. Everyone Barry had talked to was also capable of holding a tune. He couldn’t say he was  _ that _ surprised. What was surprising was that Dinah seemed to be in love with him despite the bartender Ollie so  _ clearly _ being in love with her. That, and Sionis was so gay he couldn’t understand how she didn’t see it.

Cisco sat on Barry’s apartment’s counter and Dinah sat in a kitchen chair, smiling at Siobhan as she came up for neck scratches. Barry was making an omelette and trying to get his heart to stop bleeding into the eggs.

“Where’d you pick him up?” Cisco asked, looking at Barry a little too closely. 

“Bashing heads in an alley. I, uh, I snuck out last night for a couple hours and snuck back in with him in tow. So please keep the kid to yourself, both of you.” 

He was lying. He was lying a  _ lot.  _ Somehow he didn’t care. He felt wrung out and empty. 

Dinah got a  **_ding_ ** on her phone and looked at the text notification. “We’re gonna pass on the food Barry. Give it to the kid, Zsasz is waiting.”

And that was how Barry found himself sitting in a car flanked on either side by a punk Sionis had taken off the streets, Victor Zsasz, a cast iron skillet in his lap, and Zsasz lecturing him like a mother hen. 

“And look, I don’t know why you thought, with two people after you, that it was a good idea-”

“Yesterday was...was our anniversary.” He said at the omlette. “I went to Lucky Ace Chemical Plant. Then I went home.”

Victor stared at him, silent. “That’s it?” Barry nodded. He rubbed his face. “Okay. Okay. By the way, who’s the skunk in the passenger seat.”

Said skunk, the Red Hood, was sleeping off Cisco smothering him lightly because he was trying to kill them with a kitchen knife. Barry had been in the corner having flash backs.

“Angry stray Barry’s adopted.” Cisco said, helpfully. Barry smiled widely and too brightly at Zsasz. 

“He’s pretty much a client, right now. But he’s an angry brat and I didn’t trust him with Siobhan alone.” 

“...if he tries anything, Quinn, he’s dead and then you are. But you? Slowly.”

Barry was pretty much sweating bullets as he continued smiling at the guy. 

“He won’t be a problem.”

  
  


~*~

“Shit it’s Green Arrow! Grab him!”

“He’s got the diamond! Kid!”

“Nah”

~*~

This kid was such a problem.

  
  


“So, you have twenty four hours to locate a diamond or he kills you.” The kid, Jason sounded amused. Barry rounded on him as they walked. 

“Hi? Yea, kid with an ax to grind? He’ll kill you too. Because this is your fault. You let the bartender get away with the diamond!”

Jason just shrugged, bored. “I’ve died before.”

“I-” Barry stopped. “What?”

“Joker killed me. It’s why I want him dead.”

“Ohhh, shit. Shit shit shit.” Barry ran a hand through his hair, processing. One, he was talking to a zombie, two, it was  _ that _ kid. Because there was only one kid the right age that Joker had broken to such a degree. The one whose body had been stolen some months back. “See this is why I believe in cremation.” He took a second. He had to. 

“You’re the second Robin.” he took a breath. “Nightwing would love to know you’re okay.”

Jason was immediately livid. “You do  _ not  _ tell him I’m alive, okay?! Because if Nightwing knows, then Batman knows.” 

Barry flinched, more from a sudden case of empathy than Jason’s tone.

“Joker’s not dead, yea.”

Jason shouldered past him. “No fucking shit he’s not dead. And Joker got to have an entire relationship and a life, and Batman did  _ nothing. _ ”

They walked in silence for several minutes. 

“If it helps, he almost got the death sentance, once.”

“....you know, almost.” Barry smiled at him. 

“Come on kid, we need to nab us a bad excuse for a Robin Hood.”

~*~

Somehow everything had hit the fan and Barry now had Dinah Lance in his apartment, along with a mute little girl, Green Arrow, AKA Ollie Clancie (AKA it was so obviously a fake name but Barry wasn’t in a mood to figure out who he actually was), Renee Montoya angrily hissing at a faceless man in a trenchcoat and trilby holding his hands up in a ‘peace’ gesture, and Jason wolfing pancakes down so fast Barry was halfway concerned the kid would choke. 

Oh, and Cisco on his couch, knocked out cold. 

“Okay!” Barry said loudly, clapping his hands twice. “We’re going to play a game. It’s called Perspective. When I point at you, it’s your turn to speak. Tell me your side of the story. Nobody else is allowed to talk until the person chosen is done, Sound good?”

Nobody argued so he pointed at the faceless man. 

“My name is Question. I work with Montoya here. We were tracking down the Bertinelli Diamond on the hunch the Crossbow Killer was connected to it and the Bertinelli Massacre. When Green Arrow was being chased by said killer, I followed.”

Consise and to the point, he liked this guy. He pointed at Montoya. “That the truth?”

“Q doesn’t lie with shit like this. I was also gettin some info from Dinah. She affirmed and clarified and Barry nodded before turning to Green Arrow.

“I was also hunting down the Bertinelli Diamond. But I think a member of the family is alive so I thought if I found the diamond I’d find them. Got a job as a bartender since everyone knows Sionis’ family ordered the hit on the Bertinelli family.” Oh yea, Barry remembered the case. He had to use it as a study in college.

“Sionis got the diamond and as you know I grabbed it and your kid let me go.” They all turned to Jason who flipped them off before diving back into the food. Back to Ollie. “So then when I was getting away, the little thief here nabbed the diamond, long enough for people to think she had it. I got it from her but…” 

And Barry and Jason had broken the girl out of jail to find she didn’t have the diamond. Yes. He pointed at Dinah because the girl, Cassandra, was in shock and he wasn’t going to force her to sign. 

“Cisco and I have been working with the cops and Ollie, respectively. I was tipping off Montoya who was tipping off her faceless friend. Cisco was helping get Ollie into a position he could draw the diamond and the Bertinelli heir out.” Her eyes were hollow.

“I wasn’t gonna, till a couple weeks back. When I realized how fucked in the head Sionis was. Wasn’t hard to convince Cisco to help after that.” Barry couldn’t help but look at Cisco on his couch. 

Cisco was kind, and a bit of a goof. He and Dinah were half siblings, from some drama with their mother and fathers. Dinah, Sara, Dante and Cisco, in that order. Barry hadn’t meant for Cisco to get hurt. And he wouldn’t have blamed Dinah for hating him because her only surviving sibling was hurt on his couch for taking a hit for him. 

“So, uh, Barry, why is there a kid in your kitchen?” Ollie asked, glancing at Jason. 

Barry pointed at Jason. “That’s Red Hood, but we’re cool right now. He’s...a zombie? I guess?”

A plastic plate connected with his head frisbee style and he deserved it. 

“I was brought back from the dead but I don’t want to eat flesh. Fuck you you pasty clown bitch.”

“Anyway,” Barry continued like Jason hadn’t spoken. “Red Hood is legally seventeen since he wasn’t aging in his grave he was decomposing. All things considered I can’t let a minor run around on his own, so he’s with me. Any other questions?”

Question aptly raised a hand. “Are you aware nothing in your statement answered any questions and is quite bizarre?”

“Is that a flesh mask, firstly?”

“Synthetic, but-“

“You have answered your own inquiry.”

Cisco groaned softly and Barry smothered the impulse to go to him. See if he could fix his mistake. Dinah crouched by him, brushed his hair from his face, asked if he was alright. 

Cisco smiled at Dinah weakly. Barry turned away. 

He was so fucked up.

“Knock knock Barry.”

Victor was at his door. Barry turned to the others.

“Okay, we move now. Flesh mask, help get Cisco out. Ollie, grab Red Hood and start shooting. Montoya cover our asses and protect the girl.” He opened the fake coffee table to reveal several guns and medieval weaponry. “Dinah, wanna partake in some stress relief?”

~*~ 

So in the end the Bertinelli got the diamond and nobody knew who they were. Zsasz was dead, and a grief maddened Sionis, aka Black Mask, was hauling Barry’s ass back to the club. 

Barry, Cisco (who looked very Not Good), and Dinah to be more accurate.

Barry held Cisco tightly, feeling blood pulse out under his fingers. “Cisco, talk to me.” He said softly. “Talk to me.”

“Why...Harlequin? Of all names?” Cisco asked. Barry’s mouth twisted into a horrible little smile. He looked at the ceiling of the car.

“No matter what the Harlequin does, he serves his master. A good devil who tricks everyone to further his goals. But…he has  _ two _ masters. The love of the darling Constantina, and the man he serves.” He stroked Cisco’s hair. “I’m the Harlequin, because no matter what I do, I always serve a master. We...all seem to.” He looked at Dinah, who was looking at her hands. 

“Of course, there’s two masters. Constantina doesn’t always have to be another character.” She stared at him.

“Dinah,  _ you’ve got the fucking gun _ ”

“Oh shit!”

She shot Sionis in the back of the head with Barry’s automatic key gun. He didn’t advertise he owned several of those. But now, well, he figured Dinah deserved to own that one. Cisco laughed weakly.

“Vibe Check.”

“Hey, Cisco? You might be my kid brother but I will not hesitate to smack you.”

~*~

“So...you’re finalizing an adoption for that Jason kid?”

“Anyone who had enough balls to come back from the dead and start head hunting Joker seems like an okay kid. Plus, he gets on with Siobhan.” Cisco gave him a half smile.

“Also who knew Sionis’ will would name me as the owner of the club, if Zsasz was dead.” Barry snorted.

“Sweetheart, I looked over that will. Said your name clear as day.” 

“Before or after you had twenty minutes alone with it?”

“Forgery? Me? Yea no you are absolutely right I forged his current will and burned the original.”

Barry sat in the cell in Arkham as Cisco talked to him in his hero get up. He was working with a male hero team, with valuable abilities of supersonic and portal opening. Similar to his sister.

Barry, on the other hand, had decided when Joker broke out of Arkham to admit himself and actually get some help. Just not from Scarecrow. He felt better, he was doing better. 

“Same time next week, “Vibe”?” He asked with a small smile. 

“Sure Barry. And you know, the offer is still open.”

“Right now I don’t want to be on a masked team. Hero or otherwise. Thanks though.” 

“I’ll see you next week, then.”

“Vibe?”

“Hm?”

Barry just smiled softly.

“Be careful hero boy.”


	4. Slow Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A softer ending, and healing and pain but mostly healing, and living in a way that is looking forward to the future instead of regretting the fact you’re still breathing at the end of the day. 
> 
> Abuse warning for the bit between the diamond columns.

“You can’t be Barry,  _ I’m  _ Barry!”

“But see I’m Barry Allen so-“

“So am I!”

“Okay, Scarlet Spazzes, neither of you have monopoly over a nickname or last name used by literally a fourth of the American and British populations.”

The two guys in front of him, with alternate versions of the same outfit stared at him. Alternate Dimension shenanigans bit the big one and Barry had been given babysitting duty for the undiagnosed ADHD spazzy anxiety ridden speedsters. They’d shown up a few minutes ago and while everyone had sat down, the conversation had kept circling back to names without any progress to anything else.

“I’m Barry Quinzel, my dimension is similar to his” Barry explained quickly as he gestured at the one in the armor suit “but I’m dead there. Apparently. Or was never born I’m not quite sure on the detailing. As far as I can tell in your dimension” he gestured at the guy in the fire retardant leather suit “you’re working with a scientist version of my...friend and I’m a rockstar.”

Armor boy leaned over to Barry Quinn. 

“Is there a Flash here?”

“...yes? But he’s like...in space or something? I’m not sure, shit keeps happening. I imagine he’s also a Barry though.” 

The three lapsed into silence. Barry Quinn looked at them both. You could hardly tell they were technically the same person, actually. But the pinched worried look seemed to carry across dimensions. 

He had to admit though, it looked like all Barrys worth noting were fond of the color red. Armor Barry shifted before leaning to Barry Quinn, an anxiously curious look on his face.

“So...you’re white. Like...Snow White kind of white, with black hair and red lips. Like...princess...I’m sorry what?”

“Dude! In my dimension it’s not polite to ask someone about appearance!” Leather Barry admonished. Armor Barry flinched and ducked his head down. Barry Quinn sighed and threw armor Barry a bone.

“No, it’s fine. I actually dyed my hair black with red highlights. My skin is acid washed, like Joker.  _ Exactly _ like Joker, actually. Same chemicals from the same plant. Turned my hair blond, not green though. Apparently in every other dimension, the role of Joker’s Harlequin goes to my sister.” His lips quirked into an angry snarl for a second before he leaned back in his chair. 

“The reason you’re with me is because I’m currently retired and nobody actually wants to fuck with me anymore after the shit with Sionis a bit back, before I put myself in Arkham. Basically, on your down time, come here. I’m baby sitter.”

“Why don’t you help fight?” They both asked, and only one sighed in annoyance.

“Someone has to keep down the fort my good Barrys. And like I said,  _ retired _ . Plus, does it look like I want to see an alternate dimension version of my ex?”

Especially any version  _ fucking his sister _ .

He couldn’t wait till whatever was going down was done. The sooner it was over the sooner Cisco and Dinah and Jason could come home, safe. And the sooner he didn’t have to think about multiple Jokers and various Harleens who had either never met him, or had never died. 

~*~

“Okay, lemme get this straight,” 

Barry was face to face with a ghost, okay not really but  _ this  _ version of his sister was on a team with Clayface and had the closest match up to his childhood. 

“I died that night cuz I decided ta actually be nice to ya, and then  _ you _ became Joker’s squeeze?”

Barry shrugged. “Pretty much, yea. And uh...I know you ain’t really...ya know.” Her face softened slightly. 

“I miss my Barry too, kiddo.” She paused and then pointed at his outfit. 

“You look like a goth slut.”

“Oh and you don’t?”

“Punk slut. And you know what? Fuck off I am a woman with agency an I can dress whatever the fuck way I want!”

“Then don’t shit on my outfit ya stupid bubble brain! I’m a singer at a club! I dress how I want!”

They glared at each other before dissolving into laughter.

“What a fucked up pair we are, huh sis?” He asked softly and she snorted. 

“Yea.” She shook her head. “But later, show me how t’make those nails?” 

“I’ll let you borrow a set. Let’s see if Mista J recovers from his chest ripped open.”

“He’s survived worse.” She pointed out dryly. He nodded in sad agreement.

“It’ll make me feel better. He only dated our  _ names _ an that’s fuckin gross.” 

A few moments pause before they closed the gap and hugged tightly. 

“Sorry Harls.”

“Me too, Bar.”

They weren’t really talking to each other, more to the memories of long gone people. She squeezed him a little tighter. 

“Mista J is  _ so dead _ .” 

“If your Mista J has as much an aversion to eggs as mine, we are gonna have a fun old time. Also, wanna visit my version of our parents and haunt ma? Let’s make her an dad go nuts.”

“You had me at ‘haunt ma’.”

  
  


~*~ 

Cisco-Barry Quinn’s Cisco- flopped into a booth and propped his legs on the table. 

“If I never move again it’d be too soon” he moaned. Barry clucked his tongue sympathetically, hopping down from the stage where he was double checking the equipment. 

“Do you want a back rub?”

“Um…”

“I took the copper nails off for right now, my fingers were a bit sore. Just haven’t gotten round to putting them back.” Cisco relaxed and moved so he was in a better position for Barry and the back rub. 

“You got any bruises or injuries I should be careful with, boss?” Barry asked, as he slid into the booth behind him. Cisco snorted with amusement and took his t-shirt off. To his credit there weren’t any recent injuries. 

“Where’s the tensest parts, Cisco?” His lips always tripped slightly over Cisco’s name. Not for being the “wrong” name like he bet people assumed, but because being so familiar with the hero and club owner publicly and out loud never ceased to give him the happiest of shocks. 

“Oh, shoulders by neck and lower back, mostly.”

Barry couldn’t help himself, splaying his colorless hand along Cisco’s back, taking in the sheer difference between them and admiring Cisco, before getting to work. 

Little by little Cisco relaxed into the ministrations and before long was resting his head on Barry’s neck. It made it a little harder to work but Barry didn’t mind. 

“So I heard you and Dinah got a shock earlier?”

“Sort of the thing with you and Harley. Sara’s alive and Dinah’s dead. But I’m apparently not related to them? And they are way not Afro-Latina, so…” 

“What was it like, meeting the other Vibe?”

“Weird as  _ fuck _ . It’s like an Alice in Wonderland thing. But he’s smarter.”

Barry stopped to move to have Cisco look at him.

“You’re one of the smartest men I know. Your head for business is better than anything else. Smart is smart but you know, different flavors.” 

Cisco shrugged, probably doubtful, but he did seem flattered. Time for a change of topic. Barry got onto the table properly and kneeled in front of Cisco, a knight to his king. A rock star to an admirerer. 

“ _ I wanna slow dance with you. _

_ I just wanna slow dance with you.  _

_ I know all them other guys are tough, and cool, _

_ And I got the blues _

_ I wanna slow dance with you” _

“Adventure Time? Really Barry?”

“It’s a good song. That’s alll I can say. And honestly, song’s how I always feel.” ‘around you’ were two words that died slowly in his mouth, two words he wasn’t sure he could admit.

Cisco blushed and looked down. “You’re so charming when you want to be, you know?” 

It was Barry’s turn to blush then. Deep and red and hot and ugly. He took a deep breath.

“Cisco, you’re the  _ only- _ ”

“Uh should I come back later, or?”

Cisco craned around Barry. 

“Lucifer? What the hell?”

Barry wasn’t sure what he was expecting the king of hell to look like, but a blue eyed sexy british bastard in a suit wasn’t one of them. 

“Barlow Quinzel, hello. You know, if you do “Barlow” and “Quinn” together fast enough, you  _ almost _ -”

“Believe me, I know.”

The eyes glowed as the smile became literally sharktoothed.

“Yes, I figured. I need a favor, pretty Quinn.” Barry stood on the table, watching the literal devil smile up at him.

“And I’m not allowing you to refuse.”

◈◈◈

◈◈◈

◈◈◈

Even two and a half years later, Barry’s body acted like it had only been a few hours since he’d been in Joker’s arms last. It was familiar and painful and somehow in that pain it was safe. Prodding a bruise on his jaw like poking at rotting fruit was far too familiar. Normal. And how he hated it, hated himself, hated Lucifer.

But keeping Jason away from Darkseid (who he’d been assured was so much worse than anyone else) was worth it. It had to be. If even Lucifer Morningstar was working to keep Darkseid from winning, then this had to be worth it.

  
  


Joker going at his hair with shearing knives he then stabbed into some hapless guy who’d come in at the wrong time was...the most bitter sort of humiliation Barry had experienced in a long time, though he supposed the fact he was  _ upset _ about this situation was a good sign he was, actually, getting past his need of the madman. 

It helped everyone who mattered was aware he was only playing at being the pet Harlequin again. It helped ground him and keep him from making this an actual real thing again. 

“Come here Puddin.” 

Barry kissed Siobhan on her wet snout one more time before walking to his maker. Suspender short shorts, black and red as per usual. Fishnet leggings, red hiking boots. He let Joker take one of his hands and pull him closer. “Whatcha need, Mista J?”    
  
A hand was around Barry’s neck before he could process Joker’s intention. “Would you ever betray me, Quinnie? Pranks are one thing, but would you go against me?” 

Barry’s vision fuzzed at the edges. “N-no.” he breathed. Hoping he was convincing, not sure if he was actually lying about it. Hoping he was. 

“Lawyers are natural liars, Quinnie, so…”

“Mista-Mista J-! Pl-Plea-P-Please.”

Grabbing the hand was like grabbing iron rods. Stranglulation wasn’t unusual in their relationship, this conversation wasn’t either. Barry stopped struggling, stopped thinking, and let Joker hold him by his neck. The hand went harder, harder, and then let go. Barry being kicked in the stomach was the only indication to him he was on the floor. 

Joker stalked away from Barry, who laid there hoping he could go back to the club soon, that Lucifer’s plan of keeping Joker preoccupied was going well, so he could go home. And that, really, was his greatest comfort in himself.

  
  


◈◈◈

◈◈◈

◈◈◈

Joker tried to kill Barry’s Siobhan and Barry kicked him out of a plane in response. 

Lucifer was sitting next to her when he turned around, with a rather scruffy blond scowling at the devil from where he was standing.

“Am I done?” was the first thing Barry asked. “Can I please be allowed to actually retire, now?”

The scruffy man looked him up and down. 

“Well, s’pose that’s up t’ you, love. You’ll not be able to ever really leave. But…”

“But?”

“Do you really want to? Leave this lifestyle? I mean, giving you something else wouldn’t be hard.”

Barry hesitated. He thought of every Barry Quinzel he’d heard about. Content to live lives that were distinctly normal. Family men, rock stars, dead beat dads, a detective...But no Barry Quinzel he’d ever heard about was into the costumed gig. Villain or Hero. 

“No. I don’t. I like...this. To a point.”

He considered a life without Cisco and Jason and the Birds of Prey talking to him after they’d saved Gotham, the Merry Men and their friendly rivalry with the Birds. Cisco. 

“Well, guess the main thing is I don’t want t’deal with him.” He nodded to Lucifer. Lucifer raised an amused eyebrow as he pet Siobhan, the traitor of a hyena.

“Oh dear. You can’t get rid of me totally, I’m afraid. But I won’t show up too much, Harlequin. By the way, make up your mind before we all crash into the building there. And you die.” 

Barry glared at him. 

“Take me home you son of a bitch. Cisco’s club.” 

~*~

He’d gotten an interdimensional video chat thing on his laptop, courtesy of leather bound Barry’s Cisco. He used it to talk to some of the Harley Quinn’s, and in one or two cases the other Barry Quinzels. Connecting to them was an odd sense of family he didn’t know he could have. One Harley had cautioned it wasn’t exactly the most healthy thing but...one step at a time.

“ _ Do you remember when we were two beautiful birds? _

_ We would light up the sky, when we'd fly _

_ You were orange and red like the sun when it sets  _

_ I was green as an apple's eye _

_ You said you loved all the songs that I'd sing, _

_ They were nothing like you'd ever heard _

_ And I said I loved you with all of my heart  _

_ When we were two beautiful birds…” _

A practice duet with Dinah on a day that used to be an anniversary and now was just a day. A day that hurt but just a day all the same. It didn’t make his heart bleed the way it used to, and that was fine. 

At the end of the day, when the club was closed and there weren’t any threats of doom, and Cisco and Barry were both fine and not embroiled in something, Barry Quinn took Cisco Ramon’s hand in one of his. He kissed a mouth that wasn’t ruby red or violent. 

The Harlequin and the hero Vibe went home, together and with their hyenas. Siobhan and John. Home where there might be a couple masked kids hanging around.

And when it came to Cisco, Barry wasn’t sure where they were in the relationship, but he wanted to see how far it could go. 

This wasn’t going to be an easy life, but it’d be his life to live and that was, for the first time, a nice thought.

_ “So why don’t you take this chance _

_ I’ve got the moves _

____

_ and I’d like to prove  _

____

_ I wanna slow dance with you…” _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t decided if I’ll ever revisit this world, unfortunately it ended abruptly lom


End file.
